Sometimes, when I learn something new or when I come to a greater understanding of something ‘old’, I am tempted to think that I have understood its actual meaning. But, upon reflection, it would be more honest to say that I had arrived at a meaning. All of our attempts to find meaning in this world are provisional. In reality, meaning is a multi-layered thing. It has outward levels and inward levels and beyond all such things lies reality itself. Tradition holds that there are seven levels of meaning in the Quran. If this is the case with God’s revelation, then we should expect the wider world (which is also a revelation, or a sign – ayah – from God) to be similarly multivalent.

When I participate fully and truthfully then, in that moment, my meanings may strike a chord with higher truth, as an untrained singer might briefly sing in harmony with a heavenly choir. But, the meaning is not mine. It does not belong to me, in a final, absolute sense. If I participate, it is because God has allowed me to. If I arrive at a meaning it is because God has blessed my understanding.

This is not suggest that we should not struggle to learn new things, and to explore new meanings. After all, our struggling attempts to understand are also God-given.

Of late, I have been reading as voraciously as I can around the broad topic of spirituality – specifically, what it is, what it is not and what it means in our complex 21st century world. I have also had the opportunity to discuss some of these issues with others, both online and in the real world. I value such conversations deeply, as I am convinced that, in many important respects, meanings are formed through discussion. That is, our initial, provisional meanings are fleshed out in respectful conversations with others.

This is why I have been particularly enjoying David Ford’s excellent book on Christian theology: Self and Salvation: Being Transformed. Although, as yet, I have only had the chance to read the first couple of chapters, it sets out a lively and interesting framework for exploration. As such, I wanted to share a couple of paragraphs from this work. I found them profound, as well as beautiful. Enjoy…

‘We live before the faces of others. Some are there physically, others in memory or anticipation. We have been formed face to face from our earliest days, deeper than conscious memory. A baby is welcomed – amazed gratitude, hugs and kisses, feeding, anxious oversight, eyes meeting, the first smile, accompanying singing and speaking, friends and relatives come to see. It is a face exactly like no other, mark of individuality and uniqueness, constantly moving and changing. But who is it like? It is part of genetic history, features formed by race and family, a one-off that constantly displays its origins, the type of continuity with novelty.

Already too it is part of cultural history, has been involuntarily taken into a particular family, society and period. What meanings are already played out in these first encounters? How is this particular baby received and understood? What are the habits and customs, the codes and influences, which are distilled into communication with this new person? What does it mean to be firstborn? Or female?’ (p. 17)

‘How are you related to your face? Why does that sound a rather odd question? Partly because it does not ring true in separating face and self. Yet it would also seem odd to identify face and self. Obviously, you are more than the outside of part of your head. Yet that last phrase is clearly inadequate as a description of the face. To meditate on the face is to find an approach to a range of key questions about the self. The face often seems to be a pivotal ‘interface’ between two aspects of the self’ (p.19)

‘Be brave enough to live creatively. The creative is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. You cannot get there by bus, only by hard work, risking and by not quite knowing what you are doing. What you will discover will be wonderful; yourself’.
(Alan Alda)

To travel means to encounter both fear and danger. To travel is to risk an encounter with thieves and bandits. But, to let fear and danger hold me back from travelling smacks of cowardice. For all my human weaknesses, I do not want to live with only one eye open. For all my faults, I do not want to die a coward’s death.

Although it is not easy, I must trust that the course of my life is directed, and the rudder of my ship lies in the Beloved’s firm hand. And so, when I sail into shallow waters I must remember that this is for a purpose. The place in which I now stand is exactly where I need to be and the lessons I am now struggling with are those which are most fit, and hence most needed.

I must have trust in the One who guides. I must come to realise that life is never wasted, when viewed from God’s perspective. Or, to put it another way, opportunities for growth exist within each passing moment: here and here and here.

I must open my eyes and see. I must open my ears and hear. I must open my heart and become.

Of late, I have been once again reading around the topic of spirituality – what it is, what it is not and what it means in this contemporary world of ours. Insha Allah, I am currently writing up some thoughts and questions on this topic and plan to offer them soon.

As I was reading something, I was struck by a sudden thought: attempts to define spirituality often seem to talk past each other. Some writers strive to focus on the historical, cultural and linguistic origins and meanings of this world. Others place more emphasis on what might be called the symbolic meaning of the term (as a kind of quest for truth and purpose). But, does it have to be a case of either or? Could both approaches be highlighting useful components of this hard to define term? Are they simply talking past one another?

‘Grant, O God, thy protection,
And in protection, strength,
And in strength, understanding,
And in understanding, knowledge,
And in knowledge, the knowledge of justice,
And in the knowledge of justice, the love of it,
And in that love, the love of all existences,
And in the love of all existences, the love of God,
God and all goodness’
(The Universal Druid Prayer, by Iolo Morganwg)

‘At the beginning I was mistaken in four respects. I concerned myself to remember God, to know Him, to love Him and to seek Him. When I had come to the end, I saw that He had remembered me before I remembered Him, that His knowledge of me had preceded my knowledge of Him, His love towards me had existed before my love of Him and He had sought me before I sought Him’
(Bayezid Bistami, may God sanctify his secret)

As I have struggled to grow towards wholeness, I have been struck by the idea of growth as travel. I have found the metaphor of travelling both useful and suggestive. Such a conception is useful because it feels indelibly human: wandering in search of something greater than ourselves seems to be an almost quintessential feature of what it means to be human. It is suggestive because it implies that we can renew ourselves, we can turn away from psychic dead-ends; we can leave unworthy behaviours and conceptions behind us as we walk; it suggests that beyond all the emotional turbulence of life lies a calm inner self – one which journeys ever onwards.

In an important hadith, the Prophet (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam) is reported to have said:

‘Be in this world as though you were a stranger or a traveller’.

I find this a particularly profound tradition. It provides a basic orientation towards life, a fundamental method of being in the world. A traveller depends on the generosity and hospitality of others. A traveller must therefore understand and strive to practice the adab of travel, or the proper manners of a wanderer. Everything that a traveller encounters must be respected and met with honour, especially since we are always so utterly dependent upon the generosity of our True Host, God. Being a traveller also suggests that the final destination lies beyond this world.

These thoughts are, for me, reinforced by another hadith, in which the Prophet (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam) is reported to have said:

‘Whoever leaves home to seek sacred knowledge is on the path of Allah until he returns home’

On one level, this hadith underlines the value of travelling to learn about Islam, and its injunctions, obligations and responsibilities. On another level, it could well speak to the idea of leaving our habitual selves behind us as we pursue learning. That is, if we understand our entire lives as a kind of religious/spiritual journey then we are, insha Allah, in fact always travelling along God’s path.

Another famous tradition is relevant in this regard. The Prophet (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam) is reported to have said:

‘Pursue knowledge even to China, for its pursuance is the sacred duty of every Muslim’

As I understand it, some scholars of hadith have declared this to be a very weak tradition. In other words, some have been uncertain of its authenticity. Even, as is sometimes the case, if this statement was made by someone other than Muhammad (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam), it is still profound. The pursuit of knowledge is for all of us; everyone has a duty to learn, and a right to follow that duty – even unto the outermost limits (China is perhaps here used as a symbol of the outermost limits of human knowledge/experience). Travel is thus an inherently democratic affair – to which every woman, man and child can aspire.

The significance of travel as a metaphor can also be found elsewhere in the Islamic tradition. The Quran, for example, refer to the traveller as ‘ibn al-Sabil’, or ‘son of the Way’. In 2:177, wayfarers are described as being eligible for receiving zakat (the compulsory wealth tax). That is, they are entitled to monetary support. On a deeper level, we are thus all required to aid a traveller. Or, if we are all travelling in one form or another, in truth we are all obliged to help each other.

The legal schools of Islam are called madhhabs, or ‘ways of proceeding’ – in that they provide detailed road maps of religiously sanctioned practice. The Sufi orders are known as tariqas, literally ‘paths’, along which the seeker walks towards God. The seeker takes detailed instruction on this path from the murshid, or guide.

Travel was also the way of the prophets (alaihim al-salam). Yusuf and Yunus travelled greatly, and in great hardship (alaihim al-salam). Ibrahim (alaihi al-salam) wandered from the lands of Ur into Canaan, under divine guidance. Moreover, he (alaihi al-salam) was not just a traveller, but a commited and gentle host in his own right. Indeed, his (alaihi al-salam) generosity is justly famed within the Islamic tradition and beyond. Musa’s (alaihi al-salam) life was filled with many arduous journeys. Indeed, he (alaihi al-salam) encountered the Burning Bush as he was travelling through the land, and it was here that he was tasked with setting free the Children of Israel that they too might seek God. Muhammad al-Mustapha (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam) travelled to Syria as a child, and into the heavens as a man. And, when the time was right, he (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam) migrated to Medina and thus began the Muslim count of years.

The more I explore this metaphor, the more profound it becomes. O God! Let me be a wanderer, regardless of where this body of mine goes, and let all my destinations end with You.

‘Mahabbat (love) is said to be derived from hibbat, which are seeds that fall to the earth in the desert. The name hubb (love) was given to such desert seeds (hibb), because love is the source of life just as seeds are the origin of plants. As, when the seeds are scattered in the desert, they become hidden in the earth, and rain falls upon them and the sun shines upon them and cold and heat pass over them, yet they are not corrupted by the changing seasons, but grow up and bear flowers and give fruit, so love, when it takes its dwelling in the heart, is not corrupted by presence or absence, by pleasure or pain, by separation or union.

Others say mahabbat is derived from hubb , meaning ‘a jar full of stagnant water’, because when love is collected in the heart and fills it, there is no room there for any thought except of the beloved, as Shibli says: ‘Love is called mahabbat because it obliterates (tamhu) from the heart everything except the beloved’.

Others say that mahabbat is derived from hubb, meaning ‘the four conjoined pieces of wood on which a water-jug is placed, because a lover lightly bears whatever his beloved metes out to him – honour or disgrace, pain or pleasure, fair treatment or foul’. According to others, mahabbat is derived from habb, the plural of habbat and habbat is the core of the heart, where love resides. In this case, mahabbat is called by the name of its dwelling-place, a principle of which there are many examples in Arabic. Others derive it from habab, ‘bubbles of water and the effervescence thereof in heavy rainfall’, because love is the effervescence of the heart in longing for union with the beloved. As the body subsists through the spirit, so the heart subsists through love, and love subsists through vision of, and union with, the beloved.

Others, again, declare that hubb is a name applied to pure love, because the Arabs call the pure white of the human eye habbat al-insan, just as they call the pure black (core) of the heart habbat al-qalb: the latter is the seat of love, the former the seat of vision. Hence, the heart and the eye are rivals in love, as the poet says:

A teacher stands in debt to those he teaches, for the great honour they have done him in opening themselves. And, as in all things, the honour of teaching is in fact a deep and sacred trust. An honest student places their suddenly vulnerable selves into the teacher’s hands. What greater sacrifice could there be?

This is why a teacher must first be a student themselves. How can you hope for the gift of another’s heart unless you have first struggled to surrender your own?

It’s been a couple of weeks since I went to the Christian Muslim Forum conference in Leeds, and I’m now starting to work through the many interesting materials that I picked up whilst I was there. As such, I wanted to start sharing that information with the wider world.

So, to get the ball rolling, whilst I was in Leeds I had the good fortune to listen to a fascinating talk by Rehanah Sadiq of The Reflection Network. This organisation runs cultural awareness training courses on Islam and Muslims. I really enjoyed sister Rehanah’s talk and, insha Allah, will offer a synopsis here in the future. For now, here’s a link to their current brochure (pdf document).

In a recent post, I shared some material from the Islamic tradition on the ethical dimensions of conversation/dialogue. The post also contains links to a number of other posts in the same vein. As I said there, I wanted to offer a few thoughts on some of this material, and so with God’s help, here goes…

Islam has a very demanding sense of ethical conversation. It bids Muslims to follow a very rigorous standard when talking and interacting with others. There are a great number of Quranic passages and Prophetic traditions (hadith) in this regard. I have collected some of these passages elsewhere:

I have been thinking recently about the purpose behind such ideals. Why are they there? What purposes do they serve? As I also suggested in a related post, these ideas can all be subsumed under the term adab (for more information see here, and here) .

Adab forces us to think about the rights and needs of the other in a rigourous and structured manner. That is, true adab forces us to go beyond superficialities, beyond a kind of default, diffuse respect. Such things are good in themselves, no doubt, but they are merely a starting point. Beyond lies an enhanced ability to build, foster and maintain relationships with others. In other words, adab draws us into the realm of spiritual companionship/conversation (sohbet). It raises the real prospect of true spiritual friendship. Indeed, it is only through a rigourous understanding of the rights of others that such friendships can begin (see Aelred of Rievaulx for a beautiful description of such friendship).

When we begin to take on these qualities we begin to transform ourselves, we begin walking the path of spiritual chivalry (or futuwwa in Arabic). In other words, we begin to consider others in each of our actions, in each of our thoughts and in each of our breaths. We empty our selves of ourselves, that we might be filled with light, and that we might spread that light in all that we do.

What assumptions do I bring to all my readings and interactions? What hermenuetical strategies do I employ in the act of reading? Through what ideological, theoretical and cultural membranes do I filter my reading of the primary sources of the Islamic tradition? What kinds of interpretive frameworks am I using in my attempts to explore and understand the teachings of Islam? Or, to put this question in its most basic terms: how do I read?

Questions such as these demand both rigour and honesty. Rigour is necessary because laying bare my hidden assumptions is absolutely fundamental to growth of any kind. Honesty is necessary if I am to open my inner workings to reflective scrutiny.

So, with these thoughts in mind, what are my personal assumptions? How do I read? I have been pondering this question for a while, and I have come to some basic conclusions. I would like to offer them here.

1. Human Autonomy

My reading of any text starts from the basic assumption of individual human autonomy/free will. My reading of specifically religious/spiritual texts only amplifies this basic assumption. That is, any serious engaged reading has to start from the position that each human being is the centre of their own unique world, their own universe of meanings, ideas and associations. Thus, each human being has the fundamental right/duty to determine their own realities and allegiances, to construct their own languages of meaning and profundity, and to own their own beliefs.

2. Encounter

If, as outlined briefly above, the world is populated by autonomous individuals, then any reading of a religious text must seek honest engagement with other readings. That is, it must lead to an encounter with and experience of the other. Moreover, religious texts must themselves be approached in this manner. That is, the fundamental unity of purpose of a given religious text must be acknowledged and respected. In other words, it too must be encountered as other.

3. Companionship & Conversation (Sohbet/Suhbah)

If autonomy breeds encounter, then encounter should lead to an open and honest dialogue, in the sense that it should generate a move towards communication. This is why I find the metaphor of conversation to be so very profound. Conversation implies the development of a relationship. It also implies a real attempt to explore meanings beyond our own (sohbet). It suggests a meeting of equals, on a platform of open enquiry. Moreover, this necessitates an acute understanding of the ethics of dialogue. That is, we are forced to consider the impact of our words/thoughts and also to consider the vantage points and values of others in a formal, concrete fashion.

4. Ethical Orientations (Adab)

This term, drawn from the Arabic lexicon of Islam, is pregnant with a wide range of meanings. It conveys the sense of ettiquette, in the sense of formalised social practice. It also denotes respect, consideration and more broadly, manners. Furthermore, it is used to refer to someone with education, erudition and civility. This accounts for its more extended meaning of literature. I use it here to refer to a structured, informed committment to ethical dialogue, in a practical sense.

These four broad principles inform the ways I seek to interact, with texts in general, with religious texts in particular and with the wider world at large. It is important to note, however, two key points. Firstly, as with any human being, there is much that moves beneath the surface; there are always hidden motivations at work. It is therefore important to acknowledge their existence, to accept them and to strive to understand their wider impact. Secondly, these principles represent to isolate significant strands of my own thought/approach. They are not meant to be taken as final summations, nor as sealed containers.

In her unique, passionate and beautiful manner, our worthy sister Aaminah Hernandez recently shared her advice to her son on navigating the perils of life (Regalos Por Mi Hijo). I have often thought of writing something in this vein for my own children and Aaminah’s efforts have spurred me on to action! (If I had a hat, I’d be tipping it now)!

To My Children

My beloved children, this world can be a strange place. By turns it can be both terrifying and wondrous, and since it is a father’s duty to guide his children to all that is good and wholesome in life, here is my advice to you. I do not order you to follow my every word, nor do I demand from you obedience in all things. Rather, these are the words of my heart, carved there during my wanderings through life. I offer them to you with all the love that I possess and with all the care that I can muster. Take them in this spirit. Reflect upon them to your hearts’ desire and may Allah guide you all to good fortune.

What then of advice, my blessed ones? If words are the gift of the heart, then what treasures would I bid you seek beyond all things? What gifts, then, do I hope to bestow upon you that you might grow to your true estates?

Hold fast to love. Always strive to draw closer to her. Let love open your eyes each morning and let love close them again each night. Let love be the very best of you, that you might become all that God meant you to be. Remember that love walks beyond all forms and so, be not surprised when love appears to you in guises strange and unusual.

Love can be seen in the eye and it can be felt in the hand’s gentle warmth, so always be ready for love’s blessed embrace. Each person that you will meet in life was brought forth into this world from and through love. Therefore, open your hearts and see truth as truth when it manifests itself before you. If you can do this, my loved ones, your lives will be doubly blessed. Not only will you see love manifest itself around you but it shall also manifest itself within you, and that is a treasure not to be spurned.

Dark times will come, just as surely as night follows day. But, if you cleave to love, in all truth, you will come to know that which is false for the shrivelled and withered thing it really is. You will see the false light of those who mean you harm and seeing this, you will be forewarned. Nurture strength of spirit when you move amidst the dark and remember that God’s love is always with you – never more so than when you are in danger.

You will meet those who speak and live truth and you will meet those who do not. Listen to your own intuition and to your own instincts, for they were given to you for a reason, and never feel ashamed of being who you are. You have a right to be here and to do your own work, in your own way. Those who question this fundamental right, however ‘noble’ they may seem, mean you harm and so should be avoided. In all things, know this: your choices are your own, to make as you think best. None has the right to divest you of this freedom.

But most of all, light of my eyes, take joy in life; take joy in the things that you do and take joy in love. Be happy and remember that no matter what the future may hold, your mother and I will love you always, with a love that will neither change nor diminish.

And at the end of all things, I commend you to God, the Sustainer of All Being.

During the recent Christian-Muslim Forum conference, I was introduced for the first time to the thought of Aelred_of_Rievaulx, a 12th century monk. It seems that Aelred had much to say on the topic of spiritual friendship. As his words struck a chord, I wanted to share them with the wider world:

‘The truest kind of friendship is what we call spiritual friendship. We should desire it for its own intrinsic worth and for the way it reaches into the human heart, rather than for any external reason or because it might bring any worldly advantage.

The spiritual friendship that exists between people of integrity springs out of their common attitude to life, their shared moral outlook and the kind of activities they engage in – in other words, it consists of mutual agreement in matters human and divine, combined with goodwill and practical loving concern.’
(De Spiritu Amicitia)

Welcome

'Don't be more than others. So I urge my heart.
Go be a salve of kindness - make no one sting
If you would have no other do you harm
Bite no back - do no bad deed - keep no bad thought'

(Mevlana, Quatrain 993)

Wherever We Set Foot

'Wherever we set foot, it was Your street.
Whatever corner we turned, it was Your name in the air.
We said, ‘Surely there must be a road leading elsewhere?’
But every road we found, it led to You'
Isma`il Anqarawi

The Deeper That Sorrow Carves

'The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup
that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit
the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
(Khalil Gibran, The Prophet)

A Short Prayer

We give thanks for the light under which we gather. For our Pir, Hazrati Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, and for the generations of seekers and guides that have come before us.

We pray for the health and well-being of everyone in this circle: our families, our children, our children's children, our friends, our
communities, and our world.

And we mention at this time anyone in need of healing. And may the light of this circle be received wherever it's needed.

By the breath of Mevlana, by the secret of Shamsi Tabriz, by the noble
generosity of Imam Ali, and with the blessings of Muhammad Mustafa, (our unlettered Prophet), let us say Huuuu. . . .

O Lord, Give Me Strength…

O Lord, give me strength to walk on the road of Unity.
Give me a yearning for the secret place of freedom.
Grant me an affection for the mystery of Truth.
Grant me freedom from the bondage of imitation.

Fayz Fayyazi

The Golden Words of Haci Bektas Veli

* Keep on searching, you’ll find the truth.
* Be patient in your spiritual quest.
* Whatever you seek, look within.
* Control your tongue, your hands and your sexual behavior.
* Being a teacher is to give, not to take.
* The greatest book to read is the human being.
* The universe is for man, and man for the universe.
* Any road that doesn’t follow science, ends in darkness.
* Science illuminates the paths of truth.
* Blessed are those who illuminate the darkness by their thoughts and ideas.
* Don’t hurt anyone, even though you’ve been hurt.
* Don’t ask anyone for anything that would be difficult for you to do.
* Don’t blame any nation or individual.
* The beauty of human beings is the beauty of their words.
* Don’t forget that even your enemy is human.
* Educate your daughters.

The First of All Commandments

‘And Jesus answered him, ‘The first of all commandments is, hear O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord; And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and with all thy understanding, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second commandment is like, namely this, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is no other commandment greater than these’ (Mark 12:29-31)

That’s Why I Came

Let's say it with just one breath:
How can we ever say it more plain?
Let's dive into the ocean of love.
To dive into that ocean,
that's why I came.

Shah Hatayi

There You Are, by Asik Veysel

I hide Your beauty in my eye;
Whatever I look at,
There You are.

I hide Your presence in my heart;
How could a stranger live there?
There You are.

You are my foundation and my all;
My intimate one and the word on my tongue;
You bring the greeting from my darling one;
Within that greeting,
There You are.

All the blossoms and tender leaves
They hide their beauty in reds and greens
In night’s darkness and the dawn’s first beams.
As each one awakens,
There You are.

You are the one who made creation,
who gave life and strength to every being.
There is no ending except for You
I believe and accept what I am seeing:
There You are.

The flute moans ‘Huuu’ in ecstasy
The waves are roaring, the seas are rushing,
The sun appears to veil the stars
In its rays’ vast shining,
There You are.

You are the one who makes Veysel speak;
You are the tree and I am your leaf.
The unconscious fly right by what they seek.
In both the fruit and seed,
There You are.

Whoever Is Our Enemy

Whoever is our enemy,
May Allah him give great gain!
May he be given clemency!
May he all his goals attain!
Whoever’s tossed us in a pit,
May God protect forever!
Who tosses stones at us to hit,
May might embrace his endeavor!
Whoever’s prayed for us to die,
May eternal life suffice!
Whoever’s said in hell we’d fry,
May his abode be Paradise!
Whoever slanders us with words,
May the Prophet intercede!
Whoever defames Kaygusuz,
May vision of God be guaranteed!

‎'The sum total of our life is a breath spent in the company of the Beloved' Abu Sa`id ibn Abi al-Khayr

Rejoice, O Love!

'Rejoice, O Love, that is our sweetest passion,
physician of our many illnesses!
Relief from our pomposity and boasting,
O You who are our Plato and our Galen!
For Love the earthly body soared to heaven,
the mountain tool to dancing and to skipping.
When Love approached Mount Sinai's soul, O lover,
Sinai was drunk and 'Moses fell aswoon'
(Masnavi 1. 23-26)

The Mevlevi Rose Prayer

May this moment be blessed. May goodness be opened and may evil be dispelled. May our humble plea be accepted in the Court of Honour; May the Most Glorious God purify and fill our hearts with the Light of His Greatest Name. May the hearts of the lovers be opened. By the breath of our master Mevlana, by the secret of Shams and Weled, by the holy light of Muhammad, by the generosity of Imam Ali, and the intercession of Muhammad, the unlettered prophet, mercy to all the worlds. May we say Hu, Huuu…
.